


An Ineffable Plan

by the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternative Universe where God is corporate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-09-24 04:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf/pseuds/the_lion_the_witch_and_the_werewolf
Summary: What if God had a corporate form? What if God had been more easily accessible during the Almost Apocalypse? What if Aziraphale and Crowley had a direct line to The Almighty?Well, buckle up kiddos, we’re about to find out.Just a fun bit of fanfiction for my own amusement. Don’t know how many parts there’ll be.





	1. Chapter 1

_“God does not play dice with the universe. I play an ineffable game of my own devising.”_

***

“Aziraphale – how are you?”

The angel blinked rapidly, surprised by the oddly mundane question. It was the first time he had been given a face to face interview with The Almighty, being a rather low-level angel, and he had been expecting – well, something. And, he supposed, The Almighty was indeed something. Just not the something he had anticipated.

“Oh – yes. Fine. Thank you!”

She gazed at him curiously from behind sharp, grey eyes. Or at least, he _thought _‘She’ was the correct pronoun. Instinctively he considered that ‘They’ was probably more accurate, but Her general presentation was indeed very feminine. Not that feminine was really a concept in the garden of Eden per se. Still, the billowing robes were wrapped around a body that was certainly based upon Eve, not Adam. He wondered what this meant, before realising he needed to concentrate on what The Almighty was saying over what She looked like.

Thankfully, She hadn’t said anything yet. Her dark curls – auburn, maybe? Or closer to a chocolate brown? – cascaded softly onto Her shoulders as she stood up a little straighter, scrutinising his face.

“Gabriel, leave us.”

Behind Aziraphale, Gabriel looked towards his Lord and Saviour in alarm. “But – Your Gloriousness – it is custom – ”

“Yes, I’m well aware what the customs are, having invented them,” She said calmly, a hint of a smile at the corner of Her mouth – but _only_ a hint. “However, this time, it is necessary that I speak to Aziraphale alone.”

He had been out manoeuvred, and the pinched expression on his face suggested he was all too aware of the fact. With a rather plastic smile, he conceded. “As Your Gloriousness commands.”

She watched, completely collected, as he wandered to a different section of the garden, far enough away that he could not eavesdrop – after all, She would know if he did. Eventually, when he was a good enough distance, She turned Her gaze to Aziraphale. It was strangely intimidating, despite the fact that it was kind, and despite that fact that She was a good foot shorter than him.

“Have you ever seen this tree before?” She said suddenly, stepping back and giving him plain view of what was a delightful apple tree behind Her. He nodded tightly.

“Yes, of course.”

Of course he did. He was in charge of caring for the garden, after all, whilst all the more high-ranking angels – read Gabriel, Uriel, Michael, et cetera – went about carrying on with the ineffable plan. He had no idea how that worked, considering it would be very hard to know what you were carrying out if it was ineffable, but that was none of his business.

“It’s the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.”

The Almighty looked pleased. “Very good, child. And do you know why we need it?”

This question, on the other hand, rather stumped Aziraphale. He may be in charge of the garden, but he hadn’t been the mastermind behind its inception. That particular role had been held by a demon. He hadn’t been a demon initially, of course, but after the war that’s where he ended up. And Aziraphale had inherited his position – a rather cushy position, as Michael often reminded him. So no, he didn’t know why it was there. He said so.

“It is there,” she said simply, “because Raphael wanted it to be there.”

_Raphael_. It had been a long time since Aziraphale had heard that name.

“Though,” mused The Almighty quietly, reaching up to stroke one of the apples, as if She had read his mind, “I hear he doesn’t go by that name anymore. The name I chose for him…”

The angel felt somehow as though he had interrupted an intimate moment. She struck him as a mother grieving for her child – not that mothers existed yet.

She retracted Her hand. They were stood next to each other now, almost shoulder to shoulder, so close that Aziraphale could feel the hum of their halos intercepting each other.

“He always asked too many questions.”

Her voice was sad. If she had been anyone else, Aziraphale might have put a comforting hand on Her shoulder. He had seen Eve do that to Adam when he accidentally stepped on the thistle in the North-East corner of the garden.

“Anyway. I wanted you to know it’s okay not to be okay.”

Aziraphale worried his hands. “I’m sorry, Your Gloriousness, I don’t quite understand…”

She smiled serenely. It was a habit of Hers. “I want you to know that you can be unhappy. About the war. It’s not a sin.”

He opened his mouth to say something in response before quickly realising that he wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“We all lost friends,” She continued, Her clear grey eyes staring up into the heavens absentmindedly. “Loved ones.”

It occurred to Aziriphale that She was referring to Lucifer, Her Morning Star. This made him even more uncomfortable, if that was possible, because he had always thought Lucifer was a bit of a prick.

“That is… very kind of you, Your Gloriousness,” he said carefully, “but I must admit that I didn’t, particularly… Lose someone, that is. I was never very social.”

He could have sworn that She let out a small laugh. “No. Not yet,” She said cryptically. “But you will.”

Aziraphale didn’t like that little tit bit _at all_, but one couldn’t exactly The Almighty to mind their own business, so he simply inclined his head in acquiescence. “As you say.”

A small silence, and then –

“Well, I shan’t keep you. There’s a rose bush in the South that needs pruning.”

And that, he supposed, was that. With some divine power, The Almighty managed to summon Gabriel without uttering a word. The archangel gave Aziraphale a suspicious look, before falling to one knee.

“Your Gloriousness.”

“We’re finished, Gabriel, you may take him away.”

The relief that Gabriel – and for that matter, Aziraphale – felt was palpable, though both the angels tried to pretend that all was well. Foolish, considering they were attempting to deceive the omniscient. Gabriel began to escort the younger angel away from The Almighty, though not before She called after them (though her voice didn’t get any louder, simply seemed to reverberate around them in some unsettling way) –

“Oh, and Aziraphale – should you need to talk to me, you need only ask.”

Gabriel’s grip tightened on his ward’s arm – jealousy, perhaps? But of course not, that was a sin – and Aziraphale winced slightly.

“Thank you, Your Gloriousness.”

She did not reply as Her archangel swiftly escorted Aziraphale away, but instead allowed Herself a moment of silent contemplation. _Yes,_ She thought as She once again rested Her fingers against a low-hanging fruit. _He will do nicely._


	2. Chapter 2

_“Well that went down like a lead balloon.”_

***

_Yes, it did rather,_ Aziraphale thought glumly as he slipped the last stone into the wall separating the Garden of Eden from the outside world. _Bloody demon – now why did he have to go and do that?_ Aziraphale had been quite happy as a gardener. He would have been quite happy as a gardener for the rest of eternity.

(This is, in fact, not true, but Aziraphale was at this point unaware of the bastardly streak in his nature which made him so unsuited for such a quiet life.)

But no, now he had to go and be an angel incarnate on earth to prevent Lucifer getting his hands on humanity, by order of the Archangel Gabriel himself. It all sounded very strenuous and not at all relaxing, which irritated him greatly as, above anything else, Aziraphale liked to be relaxed. Again, he cursed the demon. What had his name been? Ah yes – _Crawley._

**“Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate.”**

_Oh Heavens._ If Aziraphale hadn’t just slotted the last stone into place, he most definitely would have dropped it on his foot.

“Yes, my Lord?”

The Almighty wasn’t corporate this time. It was very unusual that She met an angel face to face, generally preferring to spend her infinite existence as a disembodied voice. It was an odd voice, one that could never be replicated – you seemed to hear it in the centre of your bones.

**“Aziraphale, where is the flaming sword that I gave you? To guard the gate of Eden?”**

The angel swallowed. His throat felt unbearably tight all of a sudden. “Sword? Right, um… Uh… Big, sharp, cutty thing, yes. Oh! Must have, uh… must have put it down here… somewhere! Um… Forget my own head next!”

There was an unimpressed silence – at least, Aziraphale thought it was unimpressed. He may have been projecting. It was difficult to read the emotions of a beam of light pouring down from the sky. And then, almost as quickly as it had appeared, the light went out.

“Oh no,” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. _That can’t be good._ Would he be fired? Could an angel _be_ fired?

And then – just in front of him, but just far enough away that She seemed almost blurry around the edges – She appeared. She was as he remembered – though it was actually impossible to keep The Almighty’s image in one’s head unless She was directly in eyesight – with dark, curling hair, light grey eyes, and dressed in those billowing white robes. A strong sense of dread washed over the angel as he fell to his knees.

“Your Gloriousness…”

“Rise, Aziraphale,” She said calmly. He didn’t think She sounded particularly angry, but then, he feared, She may have been lulling him into a false sense of security. He gingerly got to his feet as She walked closer towards him.

She smiled, that same serene smile which seemed to have no recognisable emotion behind it. “I assume you’re aware of what Raphael has done.”

Aziraphale did not understand what she meant at first and regarded her blankly for a few moments. “I’m sorry, I’m not following.”

“His temptation,” she said gently. “With Eve and the apple.”

It took him another few seconds before his eyes widened and he had to supress an audible gasp. _Crawley._ “That was _Raphael?”_

“Well, no,” She said patiently, again as though reading his mind. “I suppose it wasn’t Archangel Raphael at all, now was it?”

He considered this slowly and not without a great deal of anxiety. So, the demon he had met on the wall was – or, more aptly, had once been – the Archangel Raphael, one of The Almighty’s favourites. The Almighty had had three known favourites thus far, something that no one was supposed to be aware of but that was impossible not to notice. Lucifer had been the first before his Fall. Gabriel was the other. Which, he supposed, explained why She hadn’t gone to war once again with Hell to avenge the corruption of Her humans – She had a soft spot for the snake in question.

_Oh Lord, I’ve been fraternising with a Fallen Archangel. I really will be fired. But he wasn’t even a Prince of Hell, he was just a low-level demon! How was I supposed to know!_

In the midst of his full-blown panic, he almost didn’t hear The Almighty say, “Shall we go for a stroll, you and I?”

Even when he did hear it, he initially thought he had misheard, but there was his Lord and Saviour, holding out Her arm for him to take. It took a great deal of will-power for him to rest his hand in the crook of Her elbow instead of running off into the desert. She was very short, and he had to hunch slightly in order for the whole situation to work, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“I gather Gabriel has spoken to you about your new mission,” She said airily as they wandered along the wall of the garden. The view wasn’t exactly spectacular – all desert pretty much looks the same, and Aziraphale had spent a good long while now staring at the desert wondering if this angel malarkey was all really worth it – but She didn’t seem to mind.

“Yes – I’m to live on earth with the humans, checking in occasionally with head office, in order to combat the forces of evil.”

“Very good. Hell will have a similar situation going on, of course.”

Aziraphale’s step faltered slightly. He hadn’t considered that. _How inconvenient._

“In fact,” said The Almighty lightly, in a way that, had She not been above such things, he would really have described as ‘angling’, “my understanding is that demon will be Crawley. This is rather helpful for you, as you’re already acquainted with him.”

So She did know.

“You might even be a good influence on him,” She continued, before he had the chance to respond.

“But – Your Gloriousness,” he said haltingly, “an angel can’t un-Fall.”

“Can’t they?” She turned her silver gaze up at him, in that way that made him feel like She was looking into his very soul. “Now, whoever told you that?”

Then he blinked, and She was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_“You know this sort of… it isn’t really my scene.”_

***

“Shit,” Crowley muttered yet again as he drove through the dark, eerie night, the Antichrist crying bloody murder in the back seat. His instructions were not only worrying and indicative of an incoming apocalypse, but they were also _complicated_. Crowley loathed complicated things, things taking longer than necessary, jobs that took longer than two minutes to carry out. His hand twitched against the steering wheel. He very rarely missed Heaven, with its sterile white walls and sterile, stuffy angels, but right now he was feeling a tad nostalgic. He was desperate to pass the buck to someone else, _anyone_ else.

More than anything, it occurred to him as he revved the engine unnecessarily, he missed the self-assurance that came with being an angel. He missed the certainty that he was in the right. He missed the safety of knowing that you were loved by The Benevolent God.

Lucifer was many things, but he was not exactly loving.

_Oh Lord_, he prayed silently, an old habit that Ligur and Hastur surely would have strung him up for had they known about. _Oh Lord, if you’re listening, send me a sign._

This tactic used to get The Almighty’s attention almost every time, though for the last few centuries She appeared to have been ignoring his calls. It was for this reason that he wasn’t expecting Her to materialise in his passenger seat, and why, when he saw Her, he swore at a volume he wasn’t aware he could achieve and almost crashed the car into a nearby tree.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed, slamming on the brakes. Thankfully, as it was the dead of night, the roads were exceptionally empty, otherwise he might have been discorporated. The Almighty raised an eyebrow.

“Going back to our roots, I see.”

Crowley shot Her a withering look – a bold move for a demon, even if he was a rather high-ranking one these days. “What are you doing in my car?! What do you want, exactly?!”

She hadn’t looked at him yet – instead She was looking out at the road ahead of them – or perhaps, beyond it, to some great abyss that even the demon Crowley couldn’t see.

“Well, you told me to send you a sign.”

He couldn’t fault Her logic there, though he resented it mightily. She still wasn’t looking at him. _Well_, he thought, _two can play at that game._ He too stared resolutely out into the night, but not before he got a good look at Her. It was comforting to see Her again, despite not being able to remember what She looked like as soon as he turned away, and to know that She hadn’t changed in thousands of years. The same dark hair and silver eyes, though she was now dressed to suit current fashions – white jeans and a white jumper, with white pumps. She practically glowed in the shadowy interior of the Bentley.

Whatever happened, he wasn’t going to speak first. No, _he_ wouldn’t break the silence. _She_ had invaded _his_ car after all, why should he –

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

_Damn it, Crowley_.

She was definitely facing him now. It was a cool gaze, not at all like the ones She used to shower him with in earlier days, full of indulgence.

“I come when I am needed and when the request is sincere,” She said sharply, Her eyes like flint. “I am not, however, a cure-all to all your many, pithy problems, Raphael.”

He hissed at the word and sunk lower into his chair in petulance. “My name is _Crowley_.”

**“You have no name,”** She thundered. It was so unexpected and so loud that the Antichrist, who had been consistently howling in the back seat, fell to a meek silence. Flames danced were Her irises should have been. **“You surrendered your name when you betrayed my trust, and I will not let your Fallen name touch my tongue. You are lucky I refer to you at all.”**

The demon was sufficiently cowed. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel even a smidgen of The Almighty’s wrath, and it had quite stolen the wind from his sails. It felt a bit like when your favourite teacher gave you a detention – indignation mixed with betrayal and a dash of guilt.

In a way, She was right, which, Crowley supposed, is what irritated him the most. He had always hated ‘Crawley’ (so on the nose), the name that Lucifer had ascribed to him. But he had changed it, added his own spin to it, and now it felt right. _Raphael_ certainly didn’t – he had indeed been Raphael once, but he was not that person anymore. One only had to look at his wings to see that. Or his eyes, for that matter.

“Now,” She said calmly, as though Her little outburst had never happened, “what is it that you wanted to say?”

Crowley wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything anymore, he was so shaken, but he crossed his arms and managed to force out, “It won’t really happen, will it? The end of the world?”

She eyed him from across the car. She could have been carved out of marble. “What do you care? Surely, as a demon, destruction is what you desire?”

He squirmed at the question. “That’s not why I became a demon.”

“Oh? So why did you?”

_You know why,_ he thought angrily, _You’re bloody omniscient_.

The lull in conversation dragged on. The Antichrist was quiet. This was unusual, so Crowley leaned over to check on him – it transpired that he had fallen asleep.

“How can I stop it?” he asked softly. He felt suddenly very small, very tired, and very ill-equipped to deal with the cards that She had dealt him. He turned to face Her, and it appeared She could sense this. She was looking at him in the same way She used to, back when he had been Her trusted archangel. He couldn’t bare it, and returned to watching the Antichrist’s tiny chest rise and fall.

“One thing is for sure,” She replied eventually. He didn’t need to see it to know that She was dematerialising as She spoke. “You can’t do it alone.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“I do not sully the temple of my celestial body with… gross matter._”

***

God liked the garden. She liked the calm and the quiet and the absence of all Her many, many creatures. They were Her responsibility, and She loved them all very much, but sometimes it was nice to just _be_. It was something that humans, demons and angels alike were all very bad at – _just being._

She, however, was very talented at it. In this moment She was hovering, in between the atoms (or perhaps, more accurately, _as_ the atoms), underneath the Tree of Life (a beautiful pomegranate tree), relishing in the simple joy of existence. Nothing could touch Her here. Nothing at all –

“Your Gloriousness?”

Except that. Had She not been an infinitely patient deity She might have told the owner of the voice to bugger off and leave Her in peace for once, but She _was_ patient, and so She didn’t. And, after all, She was very fond of him. Instead, She quickly became corporate.

“Oh, there You are.”

“Where else would I be?” She mused, turning around to watch him approach (even though She had no need; She could always see everyone at all times).

That appeared to stump him. He paused in his tracks to ponder it, taking off his cashmere scarf and threading it through his fingers in thought. “Well. I don’t know. Sometimes, You just… disappear.”

She smiled at him affectionately. “If you always knew where I was, I wouldn’t be ineffable, would I?”

“I, uh… I suppose not.”

It was clear he didn’t like this conversation – he never did like to think about things too much. Her sweet Archangel liked to be told what to do and when to do it. He liked to know exactly where things were headed and how to feel about it. To not know something – it troubled him, to say the least. She could see it, the discontent bubbling behind his eyes. They were grey, like hers, but muddier, with flecks of brown. She couldn’t tease him much more without upsetting him.

Gently, She held out Her hand to appease him. “Come here, Gabriel.”

It always amused Her to do this. Despite being Her most loyal Archangel, the second creature She had ever made, who had stuck with Her throughout the War and who had been Her companion for millennia at this point, he was still ever so shy. Tentatively he took Her hand, allowing Her to guide him underneath the tree.

“Sit with me.”

He didn’t seem too keen, but he shot Her one of his pained, fake smiles and went about laying his tailored overcoat on the grass so he could sit next to Her. She wondered what made his trousers more valuable to him than the overcoat, but decided not to trouble him with the question.

“It’s so hot in here,” he murmured, taking off his tie and undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. He put the tie down next to his scarf. “You need aircon. Heaven has aircon.”

“Maybe I like it warm,” She said, leaning back lazily against the tree trunk. “Maybe I don’t need aircon – maybe you should wear more appropriate clothes when you come to visit.”

“Absolutely not,” Gabriel shot back immediately, giving Her own white robes a condescending look. “I am so glad that bed sheets went out of fashion, they look flattering on no one.”

_Ah, Gabriel_. _My dear, emotionally stunted Gabriel._

“If you’re so unhappy here, why did you come?”

He seemed affronted that She would even ask. “Because I wanted to see You.”

“But why?”

He paused – he didn’t have an answer for that. “Well,” he said eventually, “I thought I should let You know that I talked to Aziraphale.”

Now _this_ – _this_ interested Her. “Oh? About what?”

“The Apocalypse, of course.”

“And what did he say?”

“You know what he said.” Gabriel frowned. “You’re omniscient.”

He was getting frustrated again. “I know, but I like to hear about it from your perspective.”

She took his hand in Hers, tracing patterns on the back of it with the pad of Her thumb. This appeared to do the trick.

“He didn’t say much. What would he say? He’s not supposed to have an opinion, he’s just supposed to do what he’s told.”

He reached up and undid another button. If he was actually human he would have sweated through his shirt by this point. Thankfully, angels don’t have sweat glands – another perk of being ethereal. There was something irritating him, The Almighty could tell, but with Gabriel it was always best to let him tell you of his own accord. It didn’t generally take too long.

“He was eating human food.”

There it was.

“And?” The Almighty watched his face closely. His nose was scrunched up in annoyance. “What sort of food?”

His frown deepened. “I don’t remember – _sooshin_ or something like that.”

She suppressed a smile. “Sushi, most likely.”

“I just don’t understand why he would do it. It’s not like he needs to do it.”

“Usually, darling, one eats food because one likes how it tastes.”

This did not appease him. “But it’s _human_. It’s _disgusting_.”

The Almighty raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call a part of my most wonderful creation disgusting?”

“No – I mean – I –”

“I’ll have you know that sushi tastes very nice. I am particularly fond of sushi.”

For want of a better word, Gabriel’s expression could best be described as disgruntled. “But You don’t eat, how would You know?”

“I’ve tasted many a dish in my time. I have to keep busy, you know.”

“Are You not busy enough running the Great Plan?”

“Yes. But when you’re omnipresent, you can do lots of things at once, if you so desire.”

He took his hand back from Her in order to press both hands against his temples in an attempt to stifle the oncoming tension headache – that was enough challenging of his worldview for one day.

“You should keep an eye on Aziraphale,” She said, being serious at last. “Let me know what he’s up to.”

“Of course,” Gabriel responded tersely. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do, my dear.” Her voice was kind, designed to lull him. “That’s why you’re my Archangel. Now rest.”

Angels didn’t _need_ to rest per se, but Gabriel did tend to get more stressed than the others. Grudgingly he allowed Her to manoeuvre him so that his head was resting in Her lap.

“I can’t wait until the War,” he muttered, allowing Her to run Her hands through his dark hair. “Then finally we can get on with things.”

The Almighty said nothing in response, simply looked out into Her garden, which Raphael had so carefully and lovingly constructed. _Whatever will be will be._


	5. Chapter 5

_“It may help to understand human affairs to know that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”_

***

“Where am I?”

The angel looked blearily around them at the – well, at the nothing, as far as they could tell. There was just dark, dark all around. It was scary, and depressing, and oppressive, and they were lonely, very lonely, in this void, this nothingness, this –

**“Do not be afraid.”**

And then, out of nowhere, there was light. The angel blinked, all the thousands of their eyes at once, as they adjusted to their new surroundings. There was still nothing, absolutely nothing, but at least now it was a little brighter. They looked around for the source of the light – which seemed to be the same as the source of the voice – but it appeared to be almost _inside_ them, emanating from them in a soft glow.

“Who are you? Where are you?”

For a moment, the angel thought that the voice had gone, but then –

**“I am.”**

The angel blinked their many eyes once again. They made an odd shuttering sound as they opened and closed. “But – but that doesn’t mean anything.”

**“Nothing means anything, child. Because there is nothing yet. Nothing but you and I and your friends.”**

“Friends?” That was too much for the angel to comprehend in this particular moment, so they filed it away for later. “But then… where is the light coming from?”

They couldn’t tell for sure, but they thought that the space grew warmer when they spoke. They felt something – an emotion – swelling around them in some kind of aura. They didn’t have the word yet, but they were feeling amusement. The voice was amused.

**“My child, it’s you. You are the light.”**

The angel immediately turned all their eyes inwards to see that, indeed, they were the source of the light. They appeared to be a ball of fire, hovering in the air by the grace of two white wings. It was an odd sight. Indescribable, one might say – especially for an angel that had no reference point.

“Where did I come from?”

**“I made you. I created you, out of the nothing.”**

“But… how?”

**“With great effort.”**

The angel hovered anxiously. Their eyes whirred in all directions, trying to spot these friends that the I AM spoke of, but they couldn’t see anyone. The I AM seemed to sense the angel’s concern.

**“You are still frightened. Why?”**

“Because you said there were others, but I can’t see them.”

**“I asked them to wait to introduce themselves until you were more at ease.”**

“How many of them are there?”

**“Seven: Lucifer, Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, Raguel, and Remiel.** **And now, you.”**

The angel flapped their wings nervously. “They have names?”

**“Indeed.”**

A small pause. “Do I have a name?”

That same, warm aura encompassed the angel again. **“I was thinking ‘Raphael’. Do you like it?”**

The angel gave it some thought. “I suppose.” After another moment, “Yes. I think I do.”

**“Well then, Raphael. Any other questions?”**

“Do you have a name?”

**“I am The Almighty. I am the Lord.”** Raphael thought that the voice was finished, but then, **“You can call me Your Gloriousness.”**

Raphael was literally humming in curiosity now that their initial nerves had worn off. “But what makes you glorious?”

**“The fact that this is all my Glorious Creation.”**

The angel considered this. “But… but surely, then, you should be calling _us_Glorious? Because we’re part of the Glorious Creation?”

There was a longer silence now. Raphael was not aware, but The Almighty had been slightly stumped by the question. Eventually, She spoke again.

**“You would think, but there we are.”**

This answer didn’t particularly satisfy Raphael, so they tried again. “Why do you need us?”

**“To help me create. And, if all goes well, to help carry out my Ineffable Plan.”**

“But how can we help you carry out the plan if it’s ineffable? Surely that defeats the purpose?”

**“I will guide you.”**

“But how?”

**“I just will.”**

“That sounds like you don’t know.”

**“I do know, I know everything, I’m omniscient.”**

“Are you sure? You don’t sound very sure. Maybe you should be sure before –”

**“ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED?”**

The Almighty’s voice thundered across the abyss and Raphael finally fell quiet. An odd, burning aura surrounded them – The Almighty was ashamed.

**“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice. But my goodness, I haven’t had anyone ask me that many questions in such a short time in my infinite existence, _including Lucifer_. You are a being of faith, child! Exercise it!”**

“Faith. Right.” Raphael tried their best to be faithful. “If I have faith in you, can I ask one more question?”

If The Almighty had had eyes to roll at that moment, She would have rolled them.

**“Very well. But after that, no more!”**

“Can I… Can I see you?”

There were a few moments of hush. Raphael wondered if She was simply tricking them and that She had actually abandoned them there, but then, in the distance, they saw a face illuminated in the dark. The figure was too far away to be lit up by the angel, so Raphael assumed that The Almighty was also a source of light Herself, though it was softer and less brash. She glowed.

“Satisfied?”

Raphael watched as She walked closer to them. She was so different. She had legs for a start. And only two eyes.

“Can I have one?” they asked, forgetting their promise. “A body like that?”

“What did I say about more questions?” She replied dryly, but after a moment She seemed to decide to humour them. She held up her hand and clicked.

Suddenly Raphael felt very different. He felt…

Well, corporate.

“What do you think?” She asked as he ran his hand over his long limbs and flat chest. He didn’t look _quite_ identical to Her, he noticed. She was softer – She appeared to have more squishy bits and Her hair was a different colour to his – but they were the same. He smiled for the first time (now he had a mouth).

“It’s brilliant!” he said softly. And to his surprise, and great joy, She smiled back.


	6. Chapter 6

_“I assume this is about –”_

_“Armageddon, yes.”_

***

_Oh dear_, thought Aziraphale as he put the phone down. _Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear._

Phone calls from the demon Crowley in the middle of the night were never harbingers of good news; however, after his latest unfortunate meeting with Gabriel, Aziraphale was strangely comforted by the appearance of his occult – well, acquaintance, shall we say. Crowley would have the ‘inside scoop’, so to speak, news direct from Hell. Together, with Aziraphale’s own knowledge of Heaven’s Great Plan, they might be able to stop the oncoming apocalypse. Or, at least, they could try. If that was even the right thing to do.

With shaky hands, Aziraphale poured himself a glass of sherry that he kept in a cabinet behind his record player for special occasions (or in this case, a moment of crisis). The glass was big for a sherry, but this didn’t stop the angel polishing it off in two large gulps. It didn’t settle his nerves, much to his chagrin. Nothing seemed to these days, not with Head Office always looking over his shoulder, scrutinising him and criticising him. Instead, it just left that horrible burning sensation in his throat and made him feel oddly light-headed.

The apocalypse couldn’t _really_ be about to begin, could it? Aziraphale hoped not. He knew that it would have to happen eventually, but he had been hoping for at least a few more millennia. He had become rather fond of Earth and the humans that inhabited it. So clueless, but so imaginative. He supposed he should be happy that he was finally going home, to Heaven, where he belonged – but somehow, the idea left him feeling empty. Oh, how he wished someone would just explain it all to him…

“Aziraphale.”

The angel’s blood ran cold. He knew that voice. He slowly turned around.

“Oh my! Your Gloriousness! Fancy seeing you here!”

The Almighty watched him quietly, Her expression unreadable. She was stood ever so slightly in the shadows, near Aziraphale’s collection of Bible misprints, but because of Her ethereal glow She was perfectly illuminated. If he hadn’t known who it was, Aziraphale might have thought it was a ghost.

“I didn’t –” He swallowed, the words catching in his throat, and tried to hide his fear with a large grimace. “I didn’t know that you knew where I lived!”

She could have reminded him that She was omniscient, but after thousands of years of people forgetting that vital piece of information, She had recently come to the conclusion it wasn’t worth the effort it took to remind them. Instead, She continued to stare at him with those (in Aziraphale’s opinion, damnable) crystal coloured eyes.

“You have doubts about the Plan.”

Aziraphale turned as white as a sheet. “No! No doubts! None at all!” He laughed insincerely. “Why? Did Gabriel – did he say I had doubts?”

His voice cracked with nerves. The Almighty raised an eyebrow.

“What makes you think I need Gabriel to tell me anything?” She said calmly. “Perhaps I simply listen to my creations when they turn to me for help.”

Aziraphale bit his lower lip – he often felt like She taunted him. “Of course, I didn’t mean to imply – but I swear, I’m perfectly on board with the, uh, Great Plan! Everything is… tickety-boo.”

“But you did ask for my help,” She persisted, “didn’t you, Aziraphale?”

The angel’s face dropped as he mulled it over. He supposed he had rather, though The Almighty turning up to his house when he was in the midst of a small breakdown wasn’t exactly what he had been envisaging.

“I don’t recall.”

He felt rather idiotic, lying to Her. No doubt She could see right through him. A small part of him wanted Her to, for Her to reach out and comfort him. But then again, he was so skittish that if She did he might run out into Soho screaming. She appeared to sense this, because although She did move forward further into his living room, She kept a respectful distance. She was using Her favourite trick of not saying anything to encourage the angel to say what was on his mind, and was amusing Herself in the meantime by examining his collection of prophecies. She ran Her finger over the spines and let it linger on the first copy of the writings of Saint John the Divine – She had enjoyed that one immensely.

“Is it really going to happen?”

The Almighty stopped in Her tracks, finger still resting on the parchment. “Is what going to happen?”

“The end of the world.”

It sounded so much more final when phrased like that. The Almighty let Her hand drop to Her side and turned to face him. “Whatever will be will be, child.”

He seemed frustrated by Her response. “Yes, of course. But – but is that what I’m supposed to do? What we’re supposed to do?” He hesitated, trying to work out what he wanted to say. “To fight?”

She watched him thoughtfully before sitting down in a nearby armchair.

(She sat in a curious manner, on the edge of the seat, ready to spring up at any moment – not at all how one might imagine an omnipotent deity to sit.)

“Aziraphale,” She said, Her voice stern, “if you remember nothing else that I have ever said to you in six thousand years, I hope you will remember this – that whatever you do in life, you do because I wished it.”

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open slightly – he wasn’t sure whether he was comforted or terrified. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

The Almighty sighed. It was a sigh that somehow managed to convey an infinite lifetime’s worth of weariness. “What I mean by that is not that I control you, per se – what I mean is that you must never be concerned that you will disappoint me, because you can’t. Everything you have ever done, and everything you will ever do, I am already well aware of. My Plan that you are so determined to carry out will be carried out whatever you do, because whatever you do I have already anticipated.” She paused to let it sink in. “Do you see?”

He frowned. “I think so.”

“So what I am saying, my dear Aziraphale,” She continued, leaning to one side and knitting Her fingers together, “is that it may be time to stop worrying what you _should_ be doing and start asking yourself what it is that your _heart_ is _telling_you to do.”

The angel followed Her lead and perched on a nearby pouffe as he tried to absorb what She was saying. “Because… because you already know what I’ll do… so whatever I do, it’s the right thing?”

She pulled a face. “‘Right’ is a very ambiguous word at the best of times, but essentially… yes.”

“But how does this help in relation to the apocalypse?” he asked, fretting again. “Surely I should follow Gabriel’s orders, if they come from You…?”

“They come from Heaven,” The Almighty corrected.

“Right, of course… but that is You, isn’t it…?”

“Aziraphale.” She leant forward imploringly. “Do you believe that Armageddon should happen?”

He didn’t want to answer truthfully, She could tell, but at last he relented. “No. No, I don’t.”

She smiled for the first time, out of what could have been interpreted as relief. “Then – my child – do everything in your power to stop it!”

“And that’s not a sin?” he asked in a small voice.

He could have sworn She chuckled. “I believe the humans have a phrase for that,” She said wryly as She stood and walked over to him. He looked up at Her with big, blue eyes.

“They do? What is it?”

She reached out and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder before dematerialising. He couldn’t believe it – She was going to leave him hanging! But then –

**“The path to Hell is paved with good intentions.”**


	7. Chapter 7

_“Everyone knows the best place for a clandestine meeting in London is, and always has been, St. James’ Park.”_

***

“Remind me what we’re doing here again?”

The Almighty tried not to roll Her eyes as She picked up another strawberry from the punnet in his lap. “We’re on a picnic date, I told you.”

Gabriel frowned. “But why…?”

“Because dating is something that humans do with relative frequency and it’s about time you learnt a bit more about humans after thousands of years of being their guardian.”

The very concept of this was terribly challenging for him. “But what does it matter now if I understand them or not? They’re all going to die in a decade or so anyway.”

It was The Almighty’s turn to frown. “That’s not very romantic, you need to try harder.”

“To what?”

“To woo me!”

Gabriel wasn’t impressed. “You’re saying meaningless words at me like I’m just supposed to understand what the hell You’re talking about.”

“Oh, this is the worst date I have ever been on. Which is impressive, as it’s also the only date I’ve ever been on.” She finally ate the strawberry in Her hand. Her face lit up. “These are _divine,_ darling, you have to try one!”

She picked one out of the punnet and held it out for him to take. He looked at it with considerable suspicion and barely veiled disgust.

“No thank you,” he said, sniffing with distaste – but The Almighty wasn’t giving in that easily.

“Come on…” She wheedled, holding it close to his face. “It won’t kill you. You might even enjoy it…”

Gabriel was incredibly stubborn. He was also incredibly narrow-minded and incredibly unsympathetic to the plight of… well, everyone. He was, to put it mildly, a difficult person to like. But The Almighty had always liked him and tolerated him, despite his many, many flaws, and for that reason and that reason alone he allowed Her to feed him the strawberry.

“Now, _that’s_ romantic! What do you think?” She asked, watching him with sincere interest.

He pulled a face. “I don’t like the green bit.”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake Gabriel, that’s the stalk, you’re not supposed to eat that bit!”

“You didn’t tell me that!” He spat it out back into the punnet. The Almighty was beginning to wish She had never brought him.

“Forget it,” She said despondently, reclining back onto the blanket. From this position, She had a perfect view of the _real_ reason She had dragged Gabriel all the way to St James’ Park – the angel Aziraphale and the demon Crowley, who were sat on a bench not too far away.

Gabriel, however, still blissfully unaware of The Almighty’s ulterior motives, was now suffering from guilt at his own bad behaviour. It was a rare feeling for him, and he didn’t quite know how to make it right.

“It was nice.”

The Almighty, who was by this point far away with Her own thoughts, turned back to look at him blankly. “What?”

“The human food,” he clarified. “It was nice. Juicy.”

It was a poor choice of words, and Her expression reflected that. Unsure what to do next and now firmly uncomfortable, Gabriel helped himself to another strawberry, being careful to not consume the stalk this time. The Almighty, to his surprise, grinned.

“Well, would you look at that!”

The Archangel turned bright red and tugged at his turtleneck. He desperately attempted to change the subject. “So what does ‘dating’ mean? And ‘romantic’? And…” he paused, as the word formed in his mouth, “…‘woo’?”

She would have laughed had he not looked so very bewildered. “Romance is… it’s difficult to explain, but you know the feeling when you look at a friend?”

“…No.”

“Okay, okay, bad example.” She sighed, propping herself up on Her elbows. “Right, look at that couple over there.”

Gabriel followed Her pointed finger to two young women sat on a bench next to the large pond, feeding the ducks. “Yes… Why does the smaller one have holes in her jeans? Can she not afford new jeans?”

“Stop focusing on the jeans, Gabriel, they’re not important right now. Do you see the way they’re looking at each other?”

The archangel squinted at them (something that probably would have made them quite uncomfortable had they known). Their expressions were familiar to him, though he wasn’t sure why or where he had seen something similar before. And then it occurred to him. “It’s how you used to look at the Morning Star.”

The Almighty – who had been helping Herself to another strawberry – choked. “What? No it isn’t! They’re in love, Gabriel, that’s what I was trying to get you to notice.”

He looked back to the two women. _Love. How… primitive._ “Alright, so what is dating?”

“Dating is what you do when you’re in love – or about to fall in love. You take each other out on dates to prove how much you enjoy each other’s company. And to ‘woo’ someone is to try and make them fall in love with you.”

The archangel was having problems processing this. “So, are we in love? If we’re on a date?”

“No. No, we are not,” She said quickly, determined to nip that in the bud before it could even begin. “This is simply an experiment. I’m a deity, I can’t feel love in a romantic way.”

He was now watching Her instead of the two women and it made Her uncomfortable. Flushed, She stood. “I think we should follow their lead and try feeding the ducks.”

She clicked Her fingers and the blanket and strawberries packed themselves back into the picnic basket, which Gabriel dutifully picked up for Her. She led the way to the side of the lake and demonstrated to Her Archangel how to break off tiny bits of bread and throw them to the ducks. At first he was unsure, but after a while he seemed to get the hang of it. In fact, he became rather attached to a duckling that was swimming near them, going to great lengths to tear tiny crumbs so it wouldn’t choke.

“You know, this is actually quite fun –” he began, turning to smile at The Almighty – but he instead caught Her staring off behind them. He followed Her gaze, and who should he see but Aziraphale? But who was that with him? He looked familiar. Whoever it was, he found he no longer cared.

“Oh, so this wasn’t a date at all, I see!”

_Oh no_, thought The Almighty. _Time for damage control_. “Now, don’t overreact –”

“It’s not overreacting!” he said loudly, his voice tinged with betrayal. “You lied to me!”

The Almighty winced at the volume of his words – if Crowley and Aziraphale saw them, it would put the whole plan in jeopardy. “Gabriel, _will you be quiet?_ They’ll hear you!”

In an attempt to hold their cover, She grabbed his arm and tugged him behind a nearby tree – an impressive feat when you consider that he was solidly built and six foot four, and The Almighty was barely scraping five foot two.

“Am I just a novelty to You?” he hissed, wounded. “Do You not think I have better things to do with my time than watch You spy on a low-level angel just because he’s become Your latest fixation?”

The Almighty growled with frustration. “Gabriel, would you just listen to me for two seconds!” He fell into a sulky silence. “I didn’t intend to bring you at all, but you were sort of just bumbling about the Garden and I thought, well, maybe I could combine keeping an eye on Aziraphale whilst also spending time with you!”

He was close to forgiving Her, She could sense it. He furrowed his brow, and a cute little dimple formed above his nose.

“I just…” He ground his teeth in annoyance. “I just don’t understand why Aziraphale is so important to You.”

“I know,” She said gently, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze, “but you will soon. I promise. And while we’re waiting, we might as well have fun!”

She plucked a blossom off of the tree and reached up to tuck it behind his ear. He was looking at Her reproachfully, but the flower really undermined any intimidation he may have had over Her. He relented.

“Alright, fine. But I’m not happy.”

_Are you ever?_ She thought, though She didn’t say it. “Thank you. Now, quickly, come on, they’re wandering off!”

With reluctance, the Archangel allowed Her to lead him after Aziraphale and his companion. He still couldn’t place the man, but he knew he had seen him before. _Humans,_he thought, though he didn’t say it._ They all look the same._


	8. Chapter 8

_“And you know what’s worse? When it’s all over, you’ve got to deal with **eternity**.”_

***

“My dear,” The Almighty said tentatively as She allowed Herself to be guided goodness only knows where. “My dear, can I take the blindfold off yet?”

“Almost!” said Raphael with great excitement. “You’re almost in position!”

Of course, She could have cheated. It wasn’t as if She actually needed eyes to see when, should She choose, She could see everything that is, would be and ever was. Still, he had been so adamant that She shouldn’t see it until everything was perfect, and it seemed mean to peek before he was done. And now, here She was – blindfolded and brimming with anticipation. It was an unusual emotion for Her to feel. She was quite enjoying the experience.

“Alright,” he murmured. He was behind her now, his hands resting lightly on her upper arms, but they quickly moved to fumble at the knotted fabric on the back of her head. For some reason, She screwed Her eyes tight shut, so that even when the blindfold fell She remained in the dark.

“Well,” he said quietly, his hands returning to her shoulders. “What do you think?”

Slowly She opened Her eyes. In front of Her was a sight so lovely that She couldn’t quite form the words to answer his question. A pomegranate tree took the centre stage, its lush branches reaching up as if to Heaven; it appeared to be whispering Her, entreating Her to step forward and eat from it, but She resisted, too overwhelmed. Flowers – roses, lilies, lavender, foxgloves, and others – and ferns and shrubbery and so many other plants spilled out from underneath it, out towards Her, green and gorgeous and _alive_. So alive. She looked for words, but there were none – instead, She managed to force out a small, _oh._

This did not satisfy Her Archangel. “Do you like it? Say something!”

“Oh, Raphael, I _love it_.” She was close to tears. It was very unusual for Her to lose Her composure.

“You do?” He didn’t trust Her, it seemed, because he raced in front of Her to read Her expression. His face dropped. “You’re crying.”

“I am?” She dabbed at Her face, and sure enough, Her cheeks were wet. “Oh, my, yes, I am.”

“Are you sad? You hate it don’t you?” He was devastated. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’ll scrap it and start again.”

She shook Her head vehemently, grabbing his arm with a vice-like grip. “No! No, you mustn’t _ever_. No, I _adore_ it, my sweet, really. I think – I think I’m crying because – well, I’m just so happy.”

His deep brown eyes were wide with concern and confusion. He cocked his head to one side, and a stray lock of red curls fell into his thin face. He swatted it away in annoyance. “Do people cry when they’re happy?”

She let out a small laugh as She wiped Her eyes. “Apparently so.”

She had left him speechless, a rare occurrence indeed. Silently, he slipped back to Her side, taking Her hand in his. They stood in companionable silence like this for a few moments, while The Almighty pulled Herself together. Eventually, She spoke.

“I think I could quite happily spend all eternity here.”

Raphael was practically glowing with the praise. “That was the idea,” he said in a failed attempt at nonchalance. “You said to make You somewhere that the mortals could live in harmony with us. So it had to be good.”

There was a twinge in The Almighty’s stomach – _guilt._ “Yes, well. You’ve done marvellously my child.”

“Thank you.” It was time to get technical now – he was dying to show off his personal project to Her. “Now, this tree is for You.”

The Almighty raised an eyebrow in amusement. “You do realise that the whole Garden belongs to me, yes?”

Raphael did indeed, though the feathers of his wings ruffled at Her reminder. “Yes, yes, I know, but this one is _specifically_ for you – it’s the Tree of Life that you asked for.”

“It’s beautiful,” She said dutifully. But something had caught Her eye – or rather, Her third eye – and She turned around. Behind Her, there stood an apple tree; it was equally as beautiful as the Tree of Life, but somehow it was… off. It was… wrong. And it shouldn’t be in Her Garden.

“Raphael,” She said, Her voice tinged with suspicion. “What is this?”

Her angel, who had been busy staring lovingly at the pomegranate tree, was jolted out of his reverie. It took him a few seconds to work out what She was talking about, but when he did, his proud grin dissolved into a worried frown.

“Ah – that… that is _my_ tree.”

“Your tree?” She shot him one of those scrutinising gazes, the ones he absolutely hated, the ones that seemed to bore right into his very soul. “What do you mean, _your tree_?”

“I, uh…” he floundered, trying to think of a suitable lie, and, finding there was none, a half-truth. “It’s the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil…”

He ended the sentence in more of a mumble, so that it was almost inaudible. Unfortunately for Raphael, The Almighty had impeccable hearing.

“The _what_?”

She was hissing now, all bubbliness dissipated. Raphael winced at Her tone.

“Well, I – I thought that it might be good. You know. For the mortals to know the difference.” He reached up one of his delicate hands to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. “Between good and evil. So they can –” He shrugged. “– avoid the latter.”

“Oh, and you think that is your responsibility, do you?” She was standing in front of him now, arms crossed, fury emanating from Her in a kind of aura. Her grey irises had disappeared to be replaced by dancing flames. He hated it when She did that. “You think that _you_, Archangel Raphael, know better than The Almighty?”

“No, I –” he babbled, but it was too late for excuses now.

**“You proud, deceitful individual,”** She thundered. She was so angry that She began to levitate, hovering a good foot off the ground and only climbing higher. Raphael was aware from having seen Her many, many fights with Lucifer that if he did not act quickly the situation would be irredeemable. **“I should burn the entire Garden to the ground for your insolence.”**

“No, no, please, Your Gloriousness!” he begged, falling to his knees. Raphael very rarely begged. He also very rarely called Her by her proper title, so immediately She was caught off guard. She lowered a little. “Please, I’ll do anything?”

**“Anything?”** She challenged. She lowered a little again.

_“Anything,”_ he reiterated. “Just please. Don’t destroy the garden.”

A pause. It was the longest pause of Raphael’s life thus far. Thankfully for him, She relented. For him, as for the Morning Star, She always did.

“Alright.” She was back on the ground now. “But you will never challenge my authority like this again.”

“Never,” he said quickly, lying through his teeth. “I swear.”

His head was still bowed, but he felt Her hand on his shoulder. “Stand up.”

He did so.

“I forgive you,” She said gently, Her eyes back to their usual foggy grey.

“Thank you.” He was so relieved he could have sobbed.

“And as for your punishment –” He groaned inwardly – he had hoped She would forget. “– you can help Gabriel in assembling Heaven.”

She was quite proud of that one – and so She should be. Helping Gabriel choose between ten different shades of white for the walls, even though they were all effectively the same? Truly a fate worse than death.


	9. Chapter 9

_“Go to sleep and dream of pain, _

_Doom and darkness, blood and brains._

_Sleep so sweet my darling boy. _

_You will rule when Earth’s destroyed.”_

***

Crowley couldn’t help but smile as he watched little Warlock sleep. He seemed so peaceful, so… innocent. One could almost forget he was the antichrist if one tried hard enough. Reaching over, he tucked the duvet tighter around the boy’s shoulders and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. _Night night, my child_, he thought to himself, _and dream of something sweet._

“You haven’t changed at all.”

The voice came from the shadows behind him, but Crowley did not jump. The Almighty, he believed, enjoyed catching people off their guard; however, sometimes that did make Her predictable. This moment – this moment of brief vulnerability on his part – was exactly the sort of moment that She took great pleasure in appearing.

At first, he decided not to reply. Instead, he inspected his nails. They were a beautiful maroon colour. He was hoping to turn Her own game against Her, force Her, through silence, to speak first for once. It did not work, of course – She was a being of infinite patience – but he took a certain amount of pleasure from keeping Her waiting.

“Long time no see,” he said eventually, looking at her at last. It had indeed been a long time – five years, if he recalled Warlock’s age correctly. “Don’t you have some angel to be nagging? Aziraphale is only a few hundred yards in that direction.”

He gestured vaguely towards the grounds of the house. He considered that he should probably pretend he had _no idea_ that Brother Francis was the angel Aziraphale and _oh what an odd coincidence_, but it really didn’t seem worth the effort. She had been aware since at least Noah’s Ark that they knew each other.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Her mouth. “I am well aware – but I’m afraid I came to see you.”

“But why?” He couldn’t stop the annoyance seeping into his voice. “I didn’t call you this time. I don’t even want you here, I’m a demon. You have no power over me.”

“I know, my child. I came simply because I love you.”

The words were whispered, but still they stung Crowley like he had been whipped. He felt a hiss building in the back of his throat.

“You don’t love me, and I’m not your child,” he spat, with perhaps more vehemence than was necessary.

Her face fell. He hated to see Her like that – for a moment he couldn’t think of the word, but then it hit him. Wounded.

She bit her lip as She thought of something to say. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m afraid I will always love you.” She blinked rapidly. If Crowley didn’t know better, he might have thought that She was crying. “And you will always be my child. Always.”

He felt bad. He had to change the subject. More than that, he had to get them out of the room before one of them woke little Warlock. “Shall we take a walk around the garden?”

He had thrown Her for once, he realised. “A walk…?”

“Yes,” he continued, standing and readjusting his skirt. With the added height of his heels, he practically towered over her. “You always used to like walks around the garden. I imagine Gabriel doesn’t exactly spoil you with them these days.”

She blinked again, but this time out of surprise. “How would you know?”

“Gabriel?” He scoffed. “It’s Gabriel. I’ll bet every time he steps foot into _my garden_,” (said not without more than a hint of entitlement) “he complains about the lack of aircon.”

She didn’t say anything as She opened the door for him. He bowed his head in thanks and also to draw attention to his wicked grin. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he murmured, watching as She closed the door behind them, gently so as not to wake up Warlock.

“Perhaps.” He was intrigued to note that She didn’t sound sad. Not even wistful. She said the word fondly, and Her face softened. “But what happens in _my garden_ isn’t really any of your business, now is it child?”

_Touché._ She held out Her arm for him to take, but he refused it. No, this was _his_ turf, and _he_ would show her around, like the old days. Like a pleased little boy showing his mother a castle he had built out of Lego. He held out his own arm. There was a moment when he thought She wouldn’t take it, but eventually She slipped Her small hand into the crook of his elbow.

It was an odd walk. Usually one takes a walk through the garden during the day, when all the colours are illuminated, and one can avoid whatever snails and slugs might be crawling along the path. At night-time, the whole activity had a very different vibe. One might have thought it romantic, had the relationship between the two individuals in question not been so unmistakably platonic.

Instead of being absorbed with the plants, Crowley and The Almighty now found themselves looking up, towards the great bowl of stars above them.

“I made that one,” Crowley said quietly, pointing up at one of the many twinkling lights of the cosmos. It was impossible to know which star he was referring to – but of course, The Almighty did. Her clear eyes gazed at the culprit.

“Indeed. Ursa Major.”

He glanced over at Her in surprise. “You remember?”

“Of course,” She mused as they strolled on. “I remember everything.”

They continued in companionable, if slightly distant, silence, arm in arm as they had been in the beginning. They were approaching Brother Francis’ shack, and Crowley thought warmly of Aziraphale, tucked up cosily with a book most likely. He considered with affection how completely shocked and probably incredibly joyous he would be if he knew that the demon and The Almighty were in contact. It was this that drove him to direct The Almighty back towards the house, much to her amusement.

“You won’t be able to stay away from him forever, you know.”

Crowley shook his head slowly, ignoring Her small smile. “No. Not with You sticking Your nose in.”

If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn She laughed.


End file.
